


A Prostitute's Client

by AZEX



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakfast Club References, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:06:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZEX/pseuds/AZEX
Summary: John X OC.Ame Westfield is roped into a Saturday detention in which dope is smoked, secrets shared and friendships formed. She discovers that maybe there is some value in school and having faith in people. This story will include Monday, doesn't follow the script word-for-word.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello people! I’m back with something new, I recently re-watched the Breakfast Club was brilliant as always. Thought I’d try something new and write an M rated fic, hope everyone enjoys the first chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was edited 8th July 2018

Saturday, March 24, 1984  
Shermer High School  
Shermer, Illinois. 60062.  
Dear Mr Vernon,  
We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong.  
But we think you're crazy enough to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are.  
What do you care?  
You see us as you want to see us; in the simplest terms, the most convenient definitions.  
You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a drop-out and a criminal.  
Correct?  
That's the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed.

Intro  
Frost settled on the empty sports fields and running tracks of Shermer High bringing a quiet and undisturbed peacefulness to the grounds. Deserted bleachers covered with a thin layer of frosty paint, making them appear brand new. A gentle mist swept over the grounds giving everything a dreamlike quality. Shermer High School stood in the middle of the grounds looking every bit like a monster about to pounce; there would never be enough frost or mist to beautify the ugly, twisted mass of concrete.   
It's grey front face and barred windows grinned maliciously, daring someone to approach. The worn down steps covered in a thin sheen of black ice ready to throw an innocent student to the ground. 

A brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a drop-out and a criminal sauntered, strutted or slouched their way to a Saturday detention. 

Ame   
Ame Westfield swaggered across the sports fields, dressed in far too little for this time of year, trying to wrap her threadbare coat closer around her shoulders. Kicking at frost and running her hands along the frozen bleachers. Picking unconsciously at her nail varnish and wishing her boss had let her off work earlier so she could have changed out of her work uniform. Not for the first time, she regretted taking another late shift, in favour of making a bit of extra cash. She sighed, anything was better than going home and having to face her Uncle. Although, a few extra hours of sleep wouldn't go amiss.

Having made her way to the front of the school, she pulled out a cigarette and reflected on why she was going to this detention in the first place. Someone had finally noticed her attendance, which stood at a school-record low of 40%. She was almost proud. Dick - Mr Vernon - hadn't hesitated to remind her that graduation was on the horizon and she would most likely be retaking this year with the other 'wastoids'.  
Fat chance.

She had to attend these Saturday detentions like some kind of weekend school, to make up for her poor attendance. Dick had threatened expulsion if she didn't show. At this point, she couldn't afford to completely drop out of school. It would mean joining another high school and the nearest one was in the next town over, she didn't have a car or the funds for bus fare.

Looking around she noticed there were no other students. She was early for once and at school for the first time in a while. Sometimes, just to keep up to date in class, she would turn up for a geography or English lesson, to skulk at the back of the room, unnoticed by teachers and students alike. She still wanted to earn her diploma, after all, she just didn't want to sit through school. The only class she attended religiously were art classes. Her favourite teacher, Mr Buxton, ran the class and was the only teacher who wasn't constantly nagging her to pick a college and a career. Knowing her unease about attending class, he had allowed her access to the art room whenever she wanted by giving her a key. it had been too long since she'd seen him. Two, maybe three weeks ago? Work had begun consuming all her time, as she took on more responsibility at the Diner. She should definitely make more of an effort, she wouldn't want Mr Buxton to worry about her. He would understand the stress she was under and why she couldn't lose this job. But after all the kindness he'd shown her, she owed it to him to at least to show up. Plus it would give her another chance to stay out of the house, away from the constant looming presence of her Uncle. Apart from this detention saving her from expulsion, it was another reason to not be at home. She should use these Saturday detentions for some peaceful time to catch up on sleep and finish some classwork. 

As she neared the school, she could feel the familiar anxiety crawling up her throat. Heck, teenagers made her anxious. This made no sense to Ame, she worked in the food service industry, for God's sake. She spoke to strangers every day. She had no issues talking to Mr Buxton, Dick or any of the other teachers. It was just something about socialising with the same people, her age, day in, day out. Getting to know them, on more than just a surface level. It was another large reason she didn't attend school regularly. The thought of others relying on her, emotionally, it made her want to crawl back into bed or be sick. For this reason, she had no friends her age. Scratch that, no friends, full-stop. Sure, she got along with the people she worked with and served a fair amount of the students when they visited the Diner but she wasn't friends with any of them. Sometimes, seeing kids from school laughing and joking around, would bring the gnawing loneliness in the pit of her stomach to the forefront of her mind. She would watch them and remember how very lonely she was, as much as she could pretend to be busy working, trying to scrape together money to get out of Shermer. Would she be alone forever, wherever she went? Forever an outcast of society.

She couldn't think about that not now, she needed all the peace of mind she could get. Maybe, throwing herself into the middle of a group of other teens in the same situation as herself would ensure she made some friends or at least had some people to talk to whenever she did show her face at school.

Stewing over this revelation, Ame sat, breathing in the sharp morning air and waited outside the dragon's lair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to write all the disclaimers last time but as per: I own nothing except my OC. Enjoy chapter 2! 
> 
> Edited July 8th 2018

John

There were no alarms in the Bender household, as the very notion of rising before the sun had half crossed the sky deeply offended John Bender Sr. the only indication that the sun rose every day was when it streamed in through John Bender Jr.'s curtainless windows. 

However, the light only served as a reminder of how shit it really was to live in the Bender household, the crisp March sunlight illuminating the cracked wallpaper and the peeling paint. Not to mention the splinter filled wooden floorboards covered by a threadbare rug and the rusty door barely hanging onto its hinges. 

The only sound in the house was the clattering and banging of Mrs Bender downstairs putting together her husband's lunch for much later in the morning (or early afternoon), in the hopes of appeasing his temper. 

John always woke at the crack of dawn and would stare at the cracked paint on his ceiling for a few moments before hauling himself up. Always hoping for the occasional day when his mother slept in so that he could have the house to himself, to collect his jumbled thoughts before slouching off to school or a bar somewhere.   
Just another day in the Bender household, John sighed. Got another fucking detention with Vernon today, couldn’t forget that!  Better get up; they would really miss me if I didn't show!

Not usually one to feel sorry for himself, he pushed himself to his feet and reached for the nearest clean flannel shirt. Time to get today over with.

Claire   
Rose pink walls surrounded a spotless room; a half-open window blew a gentle breeze into the room. Rustling papers and tousling the hair of one Sleeping Beauty. Claire Standish, Prom Queen of two years and pride of the school. 

Gently peeling her eyes open, she sat up to survey her perfect room. Like something out of a fairy tale, all the books on shelves where straight and in order. Her clothes arranged in what would make perfect outfits and what colours matched, with harmonising shoes, hats and scarves. 

However the dresser was the crowning jewel of the room, completely white with a curved oval mirror, it was littered with jewellery and makeup, hairbrushes and accessories. It was all so perfect you would expect a parade of woodland animals to arrive at any moment to wish Claire 'good morning.' 

No alarm was needed when your dreams were a reality when you woke up. There was trouble in paradise, downstairs she could already hear the beginnings of a row between her parents, over something as simple as passing the wrong jam.   
Claire was suddenly jerked out of her normal Saturday morning haze, to the realisation that there was an all-day detention with her name on it today. Groaning she lay back to gaze at her milky white ceiling.

How can this be fair? No one would expect this of the Prom Queen, _I had better try my best to pretend today never happened, to uphold my reputation. Maybe if I ask Daddy really nicely he can get me out of it_   _and out of being grounded, too?_  She moped. However, the day can always be brightened by picking out clothes, right? Today feels like a pink kind of day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps! Hope this was ok, I'm going to keep with this style of writing as I think it gives a good perspective from all the characters! See you next time, AZEX :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fancy seeing you here? I'm back with another chapter! As always I don't own anything only my OC, enjoy..
> 
> Edited 8th July 2018

Brian  
In the Johnson household, Brian was woken up by his mother yanking open the curtains, without even glancing in his direction before striding out of the room to help his little sister get dressed. Any sting he should have felt, from being ignored by his mother, was nullified by how overwhelmingly tired he was and how worried he was about today's detention. 

Glancing over at his alarm clock, he saw that it was still five minutes before his actual alarm was set to go off. Turning over he looked around his room and was saddened by what he saw, it was so lifeless. Like something out of a magazine, immaculate, with rows upon rows of books all in alphabetical order. His desk neatly organises with finished homework and test papers, rows of pencils sharpened to perfection but the thing he hated most was the matching curtains and bedspread. Orange and yellow checked, his mother had chosen them, told him they would 'brighten up the place.' 

Looking down at himself he realised even his pyjamas had been selected by his mother, now that really was sad. Heaving himself up he wandered over to his bathroom, glancing in he glared at the orange bath mat on the floor, why did his mother have this assumption that he liked orange? Maybe this was some sort of psychological punishment.

Sighing he went into the bathroom and ran through his normal routine. Before methodically selecting clothes, which would gain him the least amount of attention in any room.  Glancing in the mirror, he turned away in disgust, what he saw there wasn't Brian Johnson, it was Mr & Mrs Johnson's top of the class, straight A son and he hated himself. 

Andrew  
Much like in the Johnson household alarm clocks weren’t needed or necessary, they were simply there to pretend normality to any outsiders that visited. At 5:30 sharp Andrew Clarke was woken up by his father for his morning run and drills. The morning schedule had been the same for as long as he could remember. As long as he’d been wrestling there had been morning drills. Wake up, run, drills, 5-minute shower and then a pep talk from his father which could last anything from 2 to 45 minutes. To Andrew the morning schedule all blurred into one long episode of bitter wind, being yelling at and disappointment. The disappointment was always there, omnipresent, looming, however that particular morning it was brought to the forefront of his mind especially clear when every his father sighed, or his eyebrows furrowed in an aggravated frown.

In good tradition, the only ‘good morning’ Andrew really got from his father was a heavy thwack on the back and a muffled ‘good session, much to be improved, to win...’ The rest of his family where the exact opposites; he hardly saw his siblings, sometimes he forgot he had any. They were always stowed away in their rooms, working on projects with muted bangs, crashes and swears from behind closed doors. Never leaving their rooms except for meals, lest they had to face their father and his disappointment in their existence.

His mother moved like a wraith around the house, cooking and cleaning; the perfect housewife but silent and cold, with judging, suspicious eyes. She watched her children vigilantly as if the moment she turned her back they would steal something and make a break for the open road. This accusing stare may have been deserved as Andrew remembered being 6, stealing from the cookie jar and being caught shortly afterwards, his mother had never trusted him quite the same since.

Everything was overlayed was a healthy serving of tension and stress, hushing conversations throughout the house. Whenever Andrew lay still and quiet for long enough he could almost hear the sound the tension made, a high pitched whining noise, like a radio looking for the right channel. Heard from every corner of the house. The sound fluctuated and seemed to grow louder in the dead of night, to the point where Andrew had to cover his ears. In the day, the house was never exactly quiet, the whining always intermingled with the crashing of dishes or the rustling of a paper as if everything the Clarkes did was inlayed with anxiety and wariness.

Going to school every morning was almost a relief for Andrew, the loud halls and excitable students temporarily replacing his tense home life. For a few brief hours, Andrew could intermingle with students and become the ‘jock’ that everyone deemed him to be. Forget about the whining noise, for a short moment in time, Andrew could be ‘normal’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people how was that? I have to admit this is a chapter that I struggled with a lot, I find Andrew particularly hard to write as I don't know anyone like him or with his mind set! I hope he didn’t get too OOC, anyway tried my best, till next time AZEX. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a me, AZEX. Back with another chapter, in the same day! As always I own nothing except my OC. 
> 
> Edited 8th July 2018

Allison  
Unlike her classmates, Allison didn't wake up to the clattering of pots or the twittering of birds. She didn't wake up at all, as she had been awake all night, thanks to small shots of vodka and liberal amounts of whatever sugar she could find in the kitchen. The house was silent as it always was, you would think the house was abandoned if you didn't see the occasional light flash on or a curtain twitch. 

Looking in a nearby mirror she assessed the damage of her night without sleep, the circles around her eyes where slightly darker and her cheeks strangely hollowed. Nothing some black eyeliner couldn't fix. 

Allison looked around her shadow-soaked room, she could just make out the bed in the corner and her bathroom door. Moving back to draw the curtain, she hesitated. Drawing the curtains meant she had to get up, getting up meant leaving the room and leaving the room meant facing the silence. The endless, silence which pressed against the eardrum and gave the illusion of hearing a dull ringing sound which was really just your own blood rushing around your skull.

Not one to wallow in self-pity she yanked the curtain back, sunlight spill into the room, highlighting the unkempt bed, empty sugar packets and some shot glasses. Just on the very slight off chance her parents wandered into her room, she kept the vodka safely stowed away. 

Glancing back in her mirror she adjusted her dark clothes, rubbed more eyeliner on to disguise the dark circles and grabbed her bag. Checking through it for all the necessities, then digging under her bed for some extra sherbets, before shuffling toward the door. 

Ame   
After waiting outside the school doors for 2 hours or maybe 5 minutes, a janitor took pity on her and let her in early. He introduced himself as Carl, as he escorted her through the halls after she admitted she had no idea where the library was. 

'I'm sorry, I can't seem to recall your name, I don't think we've met? I don't remember seeing you around the halls..' Carl said, trying to make conversation. 

Grudgingly Ame mumbled her name and something about 'not being here much', having 'other stuff to do,' and 'Saturday detentions making up school time.' 

'Well, Vernon and the school office obviously don't agree with you! Multiple Saturday detentions, lucky you.' He chuckles at his own joke, 'Wait, aren't you the owner of the spare key to the Art Room now?'

'Yeah, Mr Buxton gave it to me.' She tried not to sound defensive, lest he asks for it back.

'I've been searching for that key for months! Good to know it's in safe hands, at least. Not to be rude but, why wouldn't you have an interest in school, nice girl like you..?' 

That shocked her slightly, ‘nice girl’... from the outside she looked as unassuming as any other teenage girl her age, minus the fancy jewellery or costly clothing. Ame knew where this conversation was heading, it started with one question and then another, and another, until it snowballed into the person trying to figure out her life story. She was not about to go down that road again,   
   
'Look, Carl, thanks for your help. But I'm not really here for a pep talk, just here to serve my time and leave this hellhole, OK?'

She felt almost bad, he was only been nice to her. Quickly she shut down her guilt, nice people asked questions and questions lead to pity and that was the last thing she needed any more of. Carl looked slightly shocked but he was used to dealing with teenagers and their see-saw emotions and raging hormones, 

'This is your stop.' He grinned at her, 'Well Miss Ame, even if school is a waste of time to you don't forget to say 'hi' when every you make it in.' 

Turning around to leave, he looked over his shoulder before saying offhandedly 'It's not all bad, y'know?'  

She wondered what he meant from that comment, because from what she'd seen of life so far it was pretty shit. Wandering into the library she was surprised at such a nice room in such a shitty school. Except for the weird statue in the middle, it was almost comfortable. And it was warm. She huddled further into her coat, making sure to cover the Diner logo on her shirt. The last thing she needed was someone in the detention recognising her. Selecting a seat on the left, in the very back row she pulled out her Walkman and headphones. Absentmindedly she flicked through songs, before kicking back and closing her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I’ve kinda left a description of Ame and what she is wearing out as I felt the reader could form their own image of her based on her attitude and thoughts, I may describe her in some more detail a bit later on. Kudos people, till the next chapter, AZEX :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers, disclaimers... I own nothing except my OC... Etc... 
> 
> > Just on a side note, I am trying to update this as much as I can, but having just gone back to school, it’s quite difficult! Please bare with me!
> 
> On with the story! 
> 
> Edited July 8th 2018

John   
Bender surveyed the library and sneered, what a bunch of idiots. This group couldn't have been more randomly selected, one person from each group 'faction' within the school was represented. It was obviously their first time in a Saturday detention, and for some their first time in a detention, ever. One of the group even seemed to be jittering with nerves, twitching every time someone made the smallest noise. The other's faces where expressionless, save the occasional nervous tick of tapping a pen lid, blinking rapidly or flared nostrils. 

Taking a seat nearly at the back he noted the people around him, Johnson the nerd, fiddling with his fingers and trying to look innocent. Clarke, the wrestling jock, looking confused, as per. He vaguely recognised Allison, he'd seen her drifting around the halls before. Saving the best for last, Cherry - queen of the school, very surprising to see her here. Was she here for wearing too much lipstick or something? What a joke.

Wait, there was someone else. Sitting next to Johnson, their head was on the desk down, sleeping, and he couldn't see their face. He couldn't recognise whoever was behind the inky black hair. He'd never even seen that colour hair before, it was so black it was almost blue. She (?) was dressed in a ragged coat and sneakers, which would blend in in a large crowd, his eyes ran over the rest of her body. Long socks and bare legs, in this weather, did they even look outside before getting dressed this morning? Maybe they just had a very unremarkable face, that could be it. He knew he wasn't on the best terms with everyone at the school but he at least prided himself on being able to recognise every single face, of every student that attended this hellhole.  

Ame   
Ame was drifting in and out of consciousness, in her dreams she was always walking down an unending corridor, bathed in darkness, the occasional there was a flash of light, nearly blinding her, from a passing a window. Finally, a door would come into view, but as she moved her feet grew heavier and heavier, sticking to the floor. She fell, once, twice, pulled herself to the door, she could almost touch it. Her fingers graze the door handle, through the keyhole, a light, pure white light, comforting and beckoning her. Grasping at the door handle, she tried to turn it. It didn't move an inch, clawing, tearing the skin from her fingers she scratched at the wood of the door, howling into the darkness. She was so close she could also reach out and touch the light, claw her way out of this dark, suffocating place.

In the semi-conscious part of her brain, Ame could hear the faint murmuring of what could only be people talking, 

'You will not sleep!' 

Ame's eyes shot open after a loud thump right next to her, Dick had almost dropped a book on her head, the asshole. She yanked her headphones off and looked up, there right in front of her was one angry Dick-Vernon and five other students faces, none of which she could name or place. She stared at her desktop trying her best to avoid eye contact. 

'Is that clear missy?' 

Ame's sleep-addled brain registered that she was being addressed and she slurred out a quick series of 'Yessirs'

Pleased with himself Dick strutted back to the front desks and continued to blab on about how the detention would run. Running her hands through her hair, Ame mentally took back her earlier thought about wanting to make friends. Now that she looked around she hoped that all these people were as antisocial as she was and none of them would want to speak to her. She felt ready to retch at the prospect, why was talking to new people such a daunting prospect.  

Dick finally left the room and Ame registered the others glancing at her and one outright staring at her, this was going to be one long, shitty day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always, leave a comment or a kudo... AZEX :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8th July 2018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers, I own only my OC..   
> Also I have taken notice that each chapter is getting shorter and shorter, so just as a general consensus; Long vs. Short chapters, which should I be writing more of? Please take into consideration that longer chapters will take more time... short but sweet is what I say..

Allison   
When Dick finally left the library and returned to his office, where he would occasionally peer around the door like a vulture awaiting unsuspecting prey, Allison had time to glance around at the gaunt, drawn faces of her fellow detainees.

The bright lights of the library shone onto the teenager's faces, emphasising dark circles, shining on sweaty foreheads and hollowing cheeks. From a distance, the collection of teens looked motionless but by watching them closely Allison noted each one of their individual movements. Whilst loudly biting her nails she observed each person, eyes lingering for a small amount of time but never long enough to be noticed or caught. 

Some were a flurry of constant movement playing with pens or matches, some staring listlessly into space whereas others were still as the morning mist, eyes glazed and heads bowed. 

That was only one person really she noted, they sat on the desk in front of her, looking over towards the door, hair draped in front of her face shading her features from view. Only a singular silver dangly earring was visible around her dark curtain of hair. The crystal inlays and twisted pattern where startlingly familiar.

Struggling to place where exactly she had seen the earring, she had never seen this girl in school before. She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't notice that she had been staring too long until she felt a pair of eyes upon her. Glancing up she looked into cold, assessing eyes that gave away no emotion. The eyes judged her, was she a threat? An ally? Or possibly a means to escape? 

Allison recognised a kindred emotion in the icy orbs, an expression of trepidation, the eyes briefly darted away looking to the nearest exit. The stare couldn't have lasted longer than two seconds but Allison felt almost vulnerable, all her personal thoughts and mentality laid bare before this girl. 

Allison refused to look at anyone or anything for the next hour, instead staring resolutely at the wall opposite.

Claire  
Pastel pink nails lightly tapped the decrepit tabletop, only stopping occasionally to check that none of the nail varnish had chipped away. Then Claire would straighten her already meticulous skirt before running a hand through her already perfectly arranged hair. Soon afterwards her hazel eyes would flicker up to look at the clock before starting the whole routine again. Nails, skirt, hair, clock.

Soon she felt someone watching her, the gaze burning her, peaking over her shoulder but never actually turning around she glimpsed the intense, shining eyes that were watching her with such avid fascination. Fascination was one word for it; the eyes were very expressive. Now that she thought about, in her mind’s eye, that fascination was beginning to look a lot more similar to scorn or even loathing. How dare this bright-eyed individual judge her, Claire Standish queen bee of the school, who did she think she was? Claire briefly considered marching over there just to set this girl straight, no one glares at her and lives to tell the tale.

But her hesitation stopped her, maybe this was all an illusion in her mind that girl wasn’t really glaring. Was she? Maybe all the stress of going to this detention was getting to her, that and having to now work extra hard to uphold her reputation.

Maybe additional shopping trips were needed in her near future, for de-stressing purposes, obviously.

Ame  
She truly had meant to go straight back to sleep after Dick had left the room, but she was too nervous to now. The other teenagers sat in front of her had to be analysed and observed. By nature, Ame was not an aggressive soul but when she was backed into a corner, her hackles were raised and her sharp tongue was on hand to disarm any rowdy comments directed at her. Glaring at anyone who looked her way, she congratulated herself, sitting with her back to the wall had been a wise choice now she could now watch almost every other person’s movements, except the girl behind her. This seat also proved useful when the others started to interact with each other at least at the back no one would notice her.

Ame scrutinizes them all from afar, nearly snickering when the two alpha males decide to go at each other in a ridiculous fashion. And for the first time, she sees the perfect prom queen look something other than perfect, embarrassed, flustered. Anything other than her usual smug face was good for Ame, it proved that she was, in fact, more human than machine.

After a while, she became bored with watching the others fight and slipped on her headphones, and some reading. She was completely satisfied, thinking she had managed to fade into the background. Maybe the others would just ignore her?

Just as she was becoming consumed in her book she felt a bump at the side of the table, her heartbeat quickened. There was someone in the seat next to her. She refused to look at all, they would just leave if she ignored them. Would they try to speak to her? What would they say? They were going to form a judgement on her the second she opened her mouth. Their eyes were on her, she could distinctly feel them gazing at the side of her face. Screw it they were going to judge her whether she opened her mouth or not.

Setting her head phones down, she pushed her hair away from her face, before turning to look at the intruder on her table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who is it at her table? Even I’m not sure yet! Until next time AZEX...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: I own nothing, except Ame.  
> So advanced apologies for how long these chapters may take to write! Also this story is still a John/Ame story, but with a very slow burn, buckle up folks...

Brian  
The moment Brian had stepped into the room he checked the other people in the room, to check for danger. No one that would attack him. His eyes caught on the girl sitting in the middle row. He recognised her immediately, he would know that inky black hair anywhere. He knew he had seen her in the local business crammer course, close to the town’s library. As the detention progressed became unsure, she had barely looked up from her book and her headphones were jammed over her ears. He could begin to hear that niggling voice, which always sounded suspiciously like his mother, in the back of his telling him to introduce himself. Talk to her.

And so now here he was, after trying and failing to calm an argument between Bender and the wrestler. He was internally cursing himself and his hesitation, should it be this hard to just open his mouth and say hello? Just then Brian did something he had never done before, disobeyed the direct orders of an adult. He got up and moved one chair along the table they were sharing, growing more confident as he sat down. This girl had invoked a reaction in him that he never thought was possible, going against the orders of a teacher. With each step closer he could see more of her face and his assumptions about her were assured.

He took the seat next to her and wondered what to say. Not daring to open his mouth lest nothing but gibberish came out. Always think before you speak, as his mother would say but right now there was nothing he could think of to say!

As soon as he opened his mouth he could feel his confidence splintering, cracking. His resolve to talk to this almost stranger weakening and bending under the weight of his anxiety. He nearly gave up and was about to walk away, leaving only a muttered apology when the girl span round, eyes flashing,

‘Can I help you?’

At that moment that he was resolute that he knew this girl, terribly awkward he stuttered out,

‘N-Yes I was wondering have we met-you look familiar.’

The girl looked at him and for a moment he thought he had made a horrible decision, he must have sounded so creepy. She seemed to register his nervousness and extended a hand,

‘I don’t believe we have, I’m Ame, a pleasure to meet you.’

He grasped her hand, of course, she wouldn’t remember him they only crossed paths once every Friday evening. He would be leaving his business crammer course and she would be heading in for the next session.

‘I’m B-Brain, pleased to meet you too.’

Waiting for even a flicker of recognition behind her eyes, he was disappointed when Ame turned away. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers; he might find friendship in this person with an appreciation for business. In a rare moment of boldness, he tried again,

‘Are you sure we haven’t met, I’m sure I’ve seen you around the crammer school?’

If she didn’t think he a creep before she would definitely think he a creep now. He must sound like some sort of stalker knowing where she was outside of school. Which brought up another strange thought, he’d never actually see her in the school before.

‘Come to think of it I think I’ve seen you around, you take a class at the crammer? Don’t tell me you’re in my class?’

That made him feel better, at least she wasn’t totally unaware of his existence. Hurrying to reply to his hopefully  
new friend,

‘Yeah, I take the five past eight business class, on Friday. The one before yours.’

‘I’m so sorry! I’m awful at remembering faces, very pleased to be reacquainted with you Brian. I don’t know too  
many people at the crammer, in fact no one at all.’

They continued to talk about classes and the teacher they occasionally got when the normal one was away, the one who set too much homework. Why and where the other students where, how some of them fell asleep sometimes and would snore loudly. They were getting along so well they failed to notice the curious and in some cases hostile stares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks. Kudos and reviews are muchly appreciated... Until next time, AZEX


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own the breakfast club, *sigh*
> 
> Hello, I have returned! Finally I’m updating, I know!! ANYWAY, sadly updates are going to be slow as I am about to start at a new school and a new OC idea has captured my attention. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story so far!

John  
He studied the girl out of the corner of his eye, watching with curiosity as she spoke so openly and easily to the nerd. A few short minutes ago she had been avoiding speaking or ever catching anyone’s eyes. She seemed to be amicably describing someone they both she and the nerd knew about, he was laughing softly at her as she stood up to emphasise her point. Her hair fanned out behind her, the silky strands coming back to rest against her neck, framing her face. In that instant her eyes flickered to John’s and away. He felt his breath catch in his throat, she sure was easy on the eye. Maybe after he’d gotten first prize, he would go for second as well. 

His mind whirred at the endless dirty possibilities, ones you would only expect from a teenage boy with too much time on his hands and a particularly good imagination.

Andrew  
Andrew had never been particularly good with anything outside of sports. Feelings and friendships where simply a distraction, his father’s favourite motto. His father really was good at being negative about anything outside of football. His father’s entire life revolved around the his next match, sometimes Andrew wasn't even sure who was fighting anymore. It certainly wasn't him. 

If only his knee would just give way.

He could picture it all clearly, agony. Intense, screaming pain from his knee and spreading through his body. The flashing hospital lights. A shrill ambulance siren. Sharp, antiseptic soaps stinging his nose. Mr Clarke Sr shrieking at the doctors, outraged when they tell him that he won’t be able to walk for the next six months, let alone wrestle ever again. His mother would smile at him weakly, tuck the blankets under him tightly before leaving. The rest of the wrestling team and his coach turning away, disappointed. 

Recovery would be painful, but rejection even more so. Andrew knew that if this, this fantasy he had ever became a reality he would be rejected both at home and in school. He would cease to exist to his father, another child who had failed to live out his father’s dream of being a sports star. His ‘friends’ would poke fun at him, mock his wound and his lack of talent for anything else. Classes would become torture, instead of being the assailant he would become the target of paper planes and spit balls. Cast out from his friendship group he would be dismissed from joining all other groups, it would be social suicide. 

But, even with all of the hurt this would bring him he would be free. Free of everything except his own decisions. After all of the upheaval of this injury, his father would have no more interest or control over his life. High school would only last for a few more years anyway, then, maybe, just maybe, he could leave Shermer High behind and create a new life for himself. One day he would be able to visit museums and art galleries on Saturdays, when he would otherwise be training. One day he might even find a new group of friends who wouldn't ridicule him for wanting to read a book. 

One day he would be free to live his own life, for himself. 

Andrew contemplated his life and his circumstances, while stealing glances at the others around the room. He would bet that the girl with the shiny black hair, sat next to Johnson, never had to follow her parents rules, she didn't turn up to school anyways. The same as Bender, they were both clear of any expectations from their parents, unrestricted to wander around as they pleased, unsupervised. What do they do with their time? What would he do with his time? How he would give anything for his parents to not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks for reading, AZEX :)

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... how was that? This time round I have actually planned this story out and so hopefully I won’t lose steel 3 or 4 chapters in like I have with other fics! Also all my work is posted on FF.Net but I will be posting on here more frequently from now on..Give me a review or kudos, till next week AZEX.


End file.
